The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, nor governmental areas, which the story is stages. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offences you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection, in real life.
ROAD TRIP pitching and catching wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"You missed a spot, `boy'!"
Down again, Coach Dekker's shoulders went in for a landing, his mouth open, tongue alert at licking up the small spot of cum next to Jayab's big toe.
Smiling, Jayab never realised the bonus punt, how good it felt to have his big toe sucked. As sensuous as it felt, his minded raced on when he heard the dryer buzz for the second time. "More of the later boy!" He pulled his toe out of Dekker's mouth, swearing he could hear a whimper, a spark for Jayab to carry on, seeing how much more he could get away with. So far, no protests from his four-legged dog, following him to the laundry room.
For right now Trevor Dekker strutted along behind his college-jock master, his zipper area cramped with his excitement.
Entering the laundry room, thoughts flooded Jayab's mind. With quick thinking, the spinning towels made him do some quick math, estimating the amount of towels utilized by the swimming, track, wrestling, basketball and other Applegate teams. Then opening one dryer after the next, he stopped at the third, the one Dekker knelt by. Convinced he could get away with anything but murder, he reached down, grabbing the coach's dark-haired scalp. "Up!" He commanded his `dog'. So far things were copasetic. Jayab wasn't decked, wasn't lying flat out on his back with a stomach ache, wasn't ever spoken to as the wrestling coach rose to his feet. With the direction, "I'll be back in ten minutes. I want every towel neatly folded on the table!"
Watching Jayab's back, every fiber of muscle move, his attention on the six foot-three inch jock's chiseled shoulders, muscles reacting to movement, Dekker's hand slowly slid to his crotch. When the track star left the room, he looked down, amazed that this college student, eight years younger than himself was treating him as if he was owned by him. The prospect added to his adrenline fix. "Oh shit! The table!" He shouted to himself, which set him in motion.
His sneakers clopping along the tile floor, little did Dekker realise, nor sense, Jayab's back up against a locker, an aisle a few feet from the shower room. Being cautious, Jayab teased his cock with his index finger and thumb, rubbing against the sides of his ten inch shaft, on his mind how much fun he was having taking advantage of an Applegate University athletic coach.
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"I didn't order pizza. Did you order pizza, babe?"
Robbie, still sitting at Barry's feet, turned towards the door. Standing there, Zach Leeson expertly balanced a boxed pizza on his palm.
"Un-uh," Robbie replied, sliding from the bed, standing.
"A cancellation," Zach replied. "When I delivered it nobody was home. It was my last delivery, so Vito told me to keep it," he explained, taking the liberty to place the box on the table overhanging the bed.
"Mmmmm, smells good," Barry said, lifting the lid, letting the steam escape.
"I helped make it," Zach said.
In the meantime, Robbie stood off to the side, arms folded across his middle, a smile curling his lips at the way he observed his lover unintentionally coming on to Zach, Zach responding without hesitation.
"You can make pizza?" Barry questioned, lifting a piece out. "Owch!"
"Careful," the eighteen year old pizza boy responded, whipping a paper plate out from nowhere, placing it under the crust. Right on with his story, Zach full-speeds, "Yeah, I helped plane the cheese. I do that sometimes when I'm not delivering or waiting on tables. Yeah, they let me do some of the stuff behind the counter when it's slow. Vito says I'm good at grating cheese, that someday maybe I can make pies."
Seeing Barry get caught up in the conversation, Robbie says, "Okay....well I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, babe."
"Oh! Sure babe," Barry responded, having a kiss ripped off his lips.
Departing, Robbie left with a smile on his face. Maybe it was the cute' association the two seemed to be developing or maybe the forsight he thought of Barry opening up the portal to Zach's encounter of the gay lifestyle. Traversing the hallway, he thought about their open' relationship, more immediate, his playing around with Jayab. He grinned more profoundly thinking how far Barry was going to get with Zach, knowing their friendship could go beyond the handshake.
"Oh.. sorry..."
Exiting the elevator, Robbie entering, butted chests with Barry's nurse, Rashid Yacouba.
"I'm not," Robbie replied.
"Oh really?" Rashid replied, his finger still on the `open' button of Robbie's escape route.
Then quickly eluding to the small talk, a fact he already knew, "You're Barry's nurse, aren't you?"
Making more than a statement, the twenty-seven year old nurse replies, "No. He's not the only stud on my rounds."
It made Robbie smile. One reason being his lover being termed a stud, exactly how he translated the blond's appearance. Another being how the nurse saw it his way as well, something guys put Barry down for just because of his disabilities, his odd way of acting out sometimes. Staring into Rashid's eyes suddenly made Robbie wide awake. "Hey, you want to get some coffee or something?"
"I've got a few minutes," Rashid replied, stepping backwards, giving Robbie a foot or so of entry leeway. "But what will your boyfriend say?"
"For now we have more of an `open' relationship."
Perhaps thinking more wiser than the eighteen year old college student, Rashid says, "'Suppose I'll take you up on your offer."
He wasn't sure what the wink meant, but like in a trance, Robbie allowed the mideastern guy lure him into the elevator.
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"Where do you suppose our `other halves' are, Nicholas?"
"Only one way to find out!"
Getting out of bed, Nicholas and Anthony tossed briefs to each other, stepping into them and pulling them up to their torsos.
"Borrow a robe?" Anthony asks.
"Nah," Nicholas replies, adding, "after all, we're all men here!"
Accepting it, Anthony feeds the bathrobe back onto its hanger.
"Hey, wait a minute," Nicholas calls out, pulling on Anthony's arm.
"Wha..."
Before Anthony could add question, his friend had jerked him around, embraced and planted a kiss on his lips. Breaking, Anthony jokes, "And all I thought you were interested in is a hot fuck!"
"Oh, you know that really hits `below the belt'!" Nicholas smiles at the double meaning.
"Oh, you mean like this?"
Good thing the door was left ajar, a plus after Anthony pounced Nicholas in the balls, hightailing it out into the hallway, running for his life.
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"You disappoint me boy!"
"Um, finishing up the last one...sir... as you can see, I've neatly folded the rest into nice, sleek columns."
In his mind, Jayab was tossing around just how long Coach Dekker was standing there, his fingers bunching and rebunching up the last towel of the many, folded the length of the metal table. He had to admit, of the other fifty or so towels, they appeared to be cordoned off nice and square. Jayab was catching on fast to the game' Robbie and Alex had played, even conjuring up images of horrid things to perpetuate their sir and boy relationship. "You call this neat, boy?" Soon enough, Jayab congratulated himself for holding his composure, as to where he would have liked to have been laughing his ass off. Holding the single last towel in hands, Coach Dekker looked down upon himself, his feet buried with the heaps of towels swept from the table with one swipe of his master's arm. To add to Dekker's misery', Jayab informs him, "You have some punishment coming to you boy." Then elaborating, "Untidyness, disrepect," after looking to his
watch, not that Jayab cared to study it, "two minutes over your deadline?"
Facing Jayab, it would be easy for anyone to see Coach Dekker's wordless response. However, for Dekker he wasn't the sole participant, his crotch feeling his emotions throbbing with excitement.
Stealing the lone towel from Dekker's hands, leaving them empty, he commanded his `slave', "Now you get to folding these towels boy and I want to see some neatness or there will be hell to pay!" He's commended himself in remembering some dialogue from Robbie's story.
"But..."
"Tsk..tsk..tsk," Jayab degraded with reply, "you are incurring more and more punishment by your delay, `boy'."
Getting to work, Jayab walked around his slaveboy', admiring the sweat Dekker worked up the first time, his Applefate University wrestling team polo shirt sticking to his back and front, his chest as if a line was drawn to separate pecs from abs. He was having a great time humiliating another guy, older than himself, a pinnacle of the sports community at the university, amazed at the authoritative figure bending to his every whim. In retrospect he guessed how Alex Matsukaze must have felt. Being this awesome, the fact he was staying erect, he was totally liking the power in his grasp. Being he was getting away with' all the things which transpired thus far, he wondered what would happen if he kicked things up a knotch. Looking to his watch, he noticed it getting on to about nine o'clock. At first he felt a bit dismal remembering he was supposed to meet the rest of the track members and swim team at Hoolihan's Pub. Feeling up his pubic
region was enough incentive to change his mind, allowing his smile to return to his face.
First things first though. Walking to a sink, he bunched the towel up, making the sink swell with water, dousing the white terry cloth. Retrieving it, he wrung it out. Another thing crossed his mind. He remembers hearing some of the wrestlers boast of how their coach had instigated a towel-whipping' fight. Wow'! he said to himself, swinging the towel in midair, slinging it against one of the tiled pilons, hearing it slap harshly, sending water out everywhere. He wondered what it would sound like slapping against the skin. Walking back to the laundry room, he spotted Dekker quickly folding towels, squaring them off into even towers of white, attitude almost that of a whistling domestic. The knotch was ready for kicking.
Dekker froze in place, at the sound of tearing, but more shocked when his Applegate shirt sagged down in front of himself. "You... you tore my wrestling shirt!" he said, turning around.
Still congratulating himself for a fine performance, Jayab hadn't cracked a smile as he stepped forward, his six foot-three stature towering over Dekker's five feet, eleven inches. Talking down to him, purposely allowing spittle to flow, Jayab sternly asks, "What are you going to do about it?"
"Um, uh..." A gut reaction a few seconds earlier had been a gut reaction. Now Dekker was experiencing more of a reaction down yonder.
Before he could mumble a response, Jayab had taken the `V' of his shirt in his hand and torn downwards.
With mouth wide open, shocked even more this college sophomore had the gaul to tear the threads from his upper bod, Coach Dekker stood there, gazing upon his hairy front.
Being he wasn't being pinned to the ground, most likely something Dekker would not be able to achieve regardless of his wrestling skills, Jayab was ready to throw some more gasoline into the fire. For now the wet towel hung over his forearm, hands reaching forwards, feeling up the two quarter-sized nubs on Dekker's chest.
"Ooooooooooooooh!" He sighed out loud at the touch. He howled in pain when the intensity increased, the pain of having his nips pulverized, electricity streaming through his bod to his balls.
Not totally convinced, yet nearly, Jayab confirmed Dekker's joy in having his nips smashed between his fingers and thumbs, letting loose of one nip and plunging his hand down into the coach's sweatpants.
"Oooohhh-fuck!" Dekker responded to the pain crossing over to total pleasure.
But Dekker wasn't the only one hitting a natural high. Jayab wondered why this feeling of enjoying teasing a man's physical and mental capacities hadn't surfaced sooner. Perhaps Robbie's story had given him a new horizon to explore, finding it okay' for one man to play roughly with another, one enjoying the pitch' and the other glorified with `the catch'. As before, he sensed Dekker's whimper, a downer when he stopped playing with the twenty-nine year old coach's pec-spots. "You get these towels cleaned up boy and then we play some more!"
"Um... yeah... okay," Dekker replied.
"That'll be `yes, sir!' to you boy!"
"Yes, sir!" his slaveboy returned, bending down to pick up another towel.
Standing at a distance Jayab was ready to give Dekker a new thrill to shake up things between his legs.
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"You mean you never kissed a guy?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Zach replies, "You gotta remember this is all new to me."
"Oh yeah," Barry responded. "Hey, I got an idea!"
"What?" Zach answered to Barry's burst of energy.
"Maybe I can teach you!"
Maybe new to coming out as a gay teen, Zach didn't let his inexperience hinder himself as he gazed upon the blond, blue-eyed college student. "How would that go?"
Forgetting all about his bandages, the sores which had kept him from moving about, Barry sprung into action, more than excited about helping his new friend explore the world of being gay. "Well... why don't you kiss me!"
"Oh, I don't know about that. Isn't Robbie your boyfriend?"
Nonchalantly, Barry informs him, "Yup. But we have an open relationship. Maybe someday it'll get closed up, but for now we have this mutual understanding we can see other guys. I mean, not like," he's heard it put this way, "go around fucking every guy, but...."
Zach hopped from the foot of the bed onto his feet when Barry flung the sheet aside.
"Oops!" Barry simply replied when the gown didn't wasn't fully covering his blond pubes.
"Whoa! I've heard guys at school saying some guy is `big', but man... you're big!" Then sheepishly, Zach asks, "Do you like get sucked or do the sucking?"
"I never really sucked a guy, but I've fucked Robbie on account of he was my first and only boyfriend."
"He's like great looking too!" Zach added, which Barry already knew beyond a doubt.
Barry adds the words of wisdom, "But I didn't pick to fuck him."
"Um, how did you know?"
"You don't... I mean we didn't. It just kind of happened. Robbie started sucking me and then he said I was lubed up enough."
"Lubed up for what?"
Even though Zach seemed unaware, Barry figured he should have gotten the clue, but played dumb, saying, "A guy's cock. It has to be wet to fit up a guy's ass."
"I guess I never thought of it. Robbie and me are the same age. I wonder how he knows all this stuff?"
Barry smiled. First of all, his cock was getting all charged up over this talk. He wondered if the next part of their conversation would send him over the deep end. "He knows because he's done it."
"Fucked a guy?"
"Both," Barry frankly spills the information. "Robbie played around a lot with guys. Sometimes he's had sex with more than one guy." He also felt cool being a teacher to Zach. In some ways the eighteen year old high school senior turned him on. He pictured him as if himself, the same nerdy looking guy he resembled when he was in high school. It even came over him how much Zach could be a Harry Potter lookalike, except for the blond hair, a more wildly styled, his head of hair without the gel, disheveled, a spike here and there.
Barry laughed when Zack said, "Damn! I'd be lucky if I could stay busy with one guy!"
Not refuting it, Barry says, "I got an idea!" A lightbulb went off in his head.
"What?"
"I could like be your teacher," he said, reflecting on his feelings already. "I mean, that is if you like me."
Other than friendly conversation, which Zach was enjoying, he already was crazy over the blond college dude standing there before him. "I suppose. I guess Robbie wouldn't care as long as you both have this understanding, huh?"
After a quick glance to the big-numbered clock on the wall, Barry poses the question, "What time do you have to be home? It's getting kind of late. Don't you have to be up early to go to school?"
Perplexed for a good part of a minute, Zach finally produced the words, "Um, my folks don't care if I'm out late. Nah, don't worry `bout it. I can stay out as late as I want."
"Really? I wish I could say the same when we were in high school."
"We?" Zach asks.
"Yeah," Barry said. Even thought they had graduated from high school two years ago, it always slips his mind he is supposed to be out in the world on his own. "I have a twin brother. His name is Larry. Someday you will meet him. That is if you stick around."
Perhaps shy to the gay world and new to having a gay friend, Zach was already warmed up to Barry's charm. Stepping up to Barry, almost a half foot of distance between he smiled, asking, "How about that kiss you were going to teach me?"
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"Owwwwwwwch! Shit!" Dekker screamed out loud, dropping an almost perfectly folded towel, both hands as well as his back feeling the sting.
For sure Jayab had thought this was Coach Dekker's last straw, after whipping the wet towel across his bare back, creating yet another pink welt. However, rather than show his meekness, he swallowed and spoke out in the bdsm dialect, "Fine," he spoke with dignity, "if you don't like it you can go find yourself another master. I'm sure there's dozens of them waiting to get in your pants!"
Worse than having a wet towel graze his shoulder blades, Jayab had delivered his ultimatum, tossing the wet towel at Dekker's feet. It didn't take long for Dekker's cock to change his mind, along with the longing feeling his asslips longed for. "Um, sorry..... uh, for the outburst... um, sir."
A sly smile on his lips, Jayad no longer feared what he said or did, having been given the wet towel, picked up by Dekker and handed back to him. Then in the other direction, harshly put, Jayab warns, "Now get back to work boy before I use a belt on that sorry ass of yours!"
Dekker wondered if Jayab noticed the little wet spot on the front and center of his gray sweatpants!
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2B continued...
Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.